


Wed By Candlelight (The Portrait of the Secret Bride)

by SorrowsFlower



Series: Wed By Candlelight [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Heed the warning. There's major character death., Kara is Lena's handmaid in this. Sort of, Lena Luthor Needs a Hug, Of course there is. It's a Corpse Bride AU lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26060551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SorrowsFlower/pseuds/SorrowsFlower
Summary: For the first time, it occurs to Kara that this is the only time she’s seen Lena outside of her dreams and their encounters. This solitary portrait is proof that Lena had lived. That she had been LOVED.Kara’s breath leaves her in a rush, as she slowly realizes what this is.A lover’s final gift, her penance, handed down her family for generations -- from one bride to another -- with the secret bride who never was inside.or The Corpse Bride AU
Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor
Series: Wed By Candlelight [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1891855
Comments: 22
Kudos: 160





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm finally putting this up from Tumblr. It's unbeta'd and unedited and it's 3:30 AM, I don't even wanna look at it anymore. I'm just putting it up. Go with God, my child.

Kara inherits the old ancestral house in Argo when she turns twenty-eight. 

She’s never been there before, never even _heard_ about it – until she learns about the provision in Alura’s will two weeks after she announces her engagement to Mon-El, and the crusty old executor of her mother’s estate tells Kara that the house is hers, should she want it.

But _only_ if she gets married there, like Alura and all the women in her mother’s family were.

Two weeks into planning the wedding at the elegant old house, surrounded by family and friends who are rushing about to get everything ready for her special day, Kara’s still not sure she made the right decision. 

She’s always been curious about her mother’s family. Even when Alura was still alive, before she was adopted by the Danvers family, Kara never heard much about the Inze family. She knows vaguely that they were well-to-do, but since they moved to Metropolis when Kara was a baby, she never had much of a connection to Argo. Even less when her parents died, and she’d had to move to Midvale.

It’s a beautiful house, Kara thinks. Elegant furnishings, exquisite moldings, and vast open windows to let in the light. It’s warm and open and inviting. She couldn’t have found a more perfect venue for her wedding, even in National City. No wonder the women in her mother’s family always chose to get married here.

But apparently, this wasn’t the only tradition her mother had neglected to share before her death.

The antique necklace now hiding in Kara’s pocket is apparently another heirloom Kara has never heard of –- passed down from bride to bride in the Inze family in a generations-old tradition that started almost two hundred years ago. Eliza had suggested that she make it her “something old” at her wedding. 

The wedding that she isn’t even sure about.

It’s not that she doesn’t love Mon-El. They’ve been together for years. It’s just that…. things aren’t always so peachy between them. And marriage, well, marriage is so permanent. At least it is for Kara.

And for her parents too. It’s been so long, and while it hurts a little to think about them, one thing she always remembers about Alura and Zor El is that they were so in love. They filled their home, and Kara’s life with their love for each other, and their love for her. Married for fifteen years, and they were devoted to each other until their last breath.

Is that what she and Mon-El really have?

And all of these new things that have been shoved at her since finding out about her mother’s family. Looking through this house that is somehow disconnected, yet a part of her, ****seeing the legacy that her family left behind…. It feels a little like she’s cheapening it by going through with a marriage to someone she can only get along with for short periods of time before everything inevitably devolves into an argument.

Kara goes for a walk to clear her head. She’s been doing this a lot lately, and a small part of her feels that if she walks far enough, she can leave this whole mess behind.

There’s a trail she’s been following for the past week that she’s found she likes a lot. It’s deserted and a little overgrown, but there’s a sort of tranquility to it as she walks slowly, dried leaves crunching under her boots.

She’d found the graveyard last week, and she’s been going there every day. ****It’s really old, the tombstones are nearly crumbling with age, and there’s something….. melancholic about the place. Something sad.

But Kara doesn’t mind. She feels a strange sort of calm here. ****It’s quiet here, no one’s fussing over Kara about venues and flowers and seating charts that she really couldn’t care less about.

She walks over to her favorite grave, an old tombstone she’d found when she first got there, covered with vines and leaves until Kara had brushed them off and found the name _‘Lena Luthor’_ carved into the crumbling, weathered stone. 

She’s visited the site ever since, feeling that vague sense of melancholy again. This person had died almost two hundred years ago. ****Whoever this Lena Luthor was, she was the same age when she died as Kara is now. For some reason, that makes her inexplicably sad.

Today, she comes bearing a few flowers from the arrangement Eliza had been draping over the church pews. Kara had been planning to place them at the old grave, to brighten things up a bit. 

But before she can approach the familiar tombstone, she hears a quiet sobbing sound. She sees a pale figure kneeling beside the grave, and at first, Kara thinks she’s a mourner. Though why another person would be there mourning someone who had passed two hundred years ago, Kara doesn’t know –- disregarding the fact that that’s what she’s been doing every day for the past week.

“Hello?” Kara keeps her voice quiet to avoid spooking this other mourner. “I’m sorry to bother you. I’ll leave you to it, but I just wanted to make sure –- are you okay?”

The sobbing stops as Kara comes closer, and the pale figure rises. And Kara’s jaw drops, as the light reveals that the pale figure is actually a woman –- a very stunning, ethereally beautiful woman…. who is dressed in a bloodstained wedding dress.

_What the fuck?_

And not just a little bit of blood. The whole front of the dress has been dyed red with blood. And Kara can see where her dress has been slashed open to expose torn, jagged flesh, and Kara gags a little bit.

Before Kara can cry out -– in confusion? Fear? Panic? Before she can even think to make sure that the other woman is okay -– there’s no way she is, not with that much blood on her dress -– the other woman turns, and her eyes fix on Kara’s, piercing her where she stands. 

A slender hand reaches out, fingers trembling, and pearl-like tears slip down her pale cheeks. 

“Kara…?” Her voice is soft and tremulous, and Kara is frozen, watching her trembling, bloody hand reach out to touch her face. 

It never does. Kara can see those fingers brushing her face, but she feels nothing. As if the woman in front of her isn’t real. “You’ve come back to me….”

The shock of it breaks the spell. Kara stumbles in her haste to back away from those bloody, outstretched fingers. The other woman steps forward, murmuring her name again, and Kara finally manages to make her legs work. She scrambles to her feet and runs away, nearly missing the trail in her fright.

In her haste, she drops the white flowers she’d brought and crushes them into the dirt with her boot.

....

....

....

....

When Kara gets back to the house, she tells no one about what happened.

That was… that was just a crazy hallucination, brought on by all the stress of wedding planning and inheritance laws and every crazy little thing she’s been through the past two weeks.

When Mon-El asks where she’s been, she responds with a tight smile that she’s just been out walking. When Alex asks why she’s so pale, she reassures her she’s fine, and accepts the cup of tea she offers before retreating to her room.

That’s the first night Kara dreams of her.

_In her dreams, she is still beautiful and otherworldly, but her dress is pristine. Her pale skin is smooth and unmarred, painted amber in the thin light cast by their solitary candle._

_In her dreams, Kara knows her name, whispers it into the skin of her shoulder as she slowly unlaces her corset. This is her favorite time of the night, when her lady’s mother is in bed, and Kara has Lena all to herself. When the marionette strings holding Lena up are cut and she falls, eager and pliant, into Kara’s arms. Lena’s rigid spine melts like candle wax under the heat of her fingers, and she sighs so prettily as her chemise falls to the floor, unheeded._

_“I’m sorry about today.” Lena turns around at her vanity, facing Kara. Her eyes are mournful and tired, and Kara’s heart aches for her. “The things Lillian said–”  
_

_“That is how one is supposed to talk to the maid.” She makes a half-hearted attempt at mimicking Lillian, but it falls flat, and Lena merely grips her collar with angry fingers. “I’m used to it. You, on the other hand, should stop antagonizing her when she does, or she’ll end up starving you until Christmas.”  
_

_“I don’t care! She went too far.” Lena protests in a heated whisper as she pulls Kara closer by her collar, their foreheads touching. “You shouldn’t have to be used to it.”  
_

_Kara savors the warmth of her lady’s breath against her cheek, and her hand comes up to mold against Lena’s neck and jaw. “Nor should you.”_

_Their lips come together in a fierce kiss, tender and hungry, softness yielding to desperation. Lena tastes bittersweet and oh, how Kara loves the taste of her. Kara loves **her** , and she wants to yell at the unfairness of a world that would ever hurt her lady. She wants to scream and cry and rage at how unfair it is that the only love Lena has ever received is in this cold, damp room lit only by the last of the candles Kara can light for her. Kara loves her so much, she aches with it, with the need to show her just how much. _

_Her hands slip over smooth, quivering skin, and as she pulls away from the kiss, Kara breathes the promise into Lena’s open mouth. “One day, I’ll take you away from here. I’ll build you a beautiful house filled with light and warmth, just like you always wanted. And I’ll fill it with books and flowers, just for you.”_

_“As long as I’m with you.” Lena sobs breathlessly into her mouth, her fingers digging into Kara’s back, “I only want it if it’s with you.”_

And Kara wakes in the wide bed of her ancestral home, breathing heavily, with the phantom sting of a lover’s fingernails on her back. 

Beside her, Mon-El snores lightly, completely oblivious.

....

....

....

It’s not the last time Kara dreams of her.

Sometimes, Kara dreams of being a child, running along the fading, derelict halls of what she somehow knows is Luthor Manor, and being whipped viciously by Lillian until her lady intervened and got herself denied meals for the next two days for her trouble. 

She dreams of drawing pictures in the dusty floor for her lady’s amusement, her small clumsy fingers honing their talent first in dust, then the little bit of charcoal she can pilfer, and then -– when Lena secretly spends what little money she’s able to save on a gift for her -– oils and paints, all hidden from Lillian under a loose floorboard in their room.

Kara dreams of a once-great house crumbling down around their ears, of standing dutifully beside Lena and Lillian as the debt collectors took beloved artifacts from the house, one by one -– priceless paintings and sculptures, generations-old; Lena’s precious books and the cherished ornate microscope that had been a gift from her brother – until they were left with nothing but the shame of an empty house and an empty name.

Kara dreams of her own trembling, yearning fingers helping her lady undress each night after the pompous, oppressive suitors had left and the two of them were alone in Lena’s room, shedding each layer of clothing. Her polite and careful hands unraveling, unlacing and unfurling with a secret pleasure, like peeling away the petals of a flower to reveal the tender, fragile flesh underneath that only Kara was allowed to see, but was forbidden to touch.

She dreams of the first kiss shared in that cold, dim room ... when the single candle Lillian had spared for them fizzled out into smoke, and the dark had made her brave enough to trace the invisible outline of her sleeping lady’s lips. Only Lena hadn’t been sleeping, and Kara’s own name was pressed into her impertinent fingertips in an tremulous whisper, and terrified but aching, she had replaced her hand with her own lips instead.

After the fifth night of waking up from dreams that make her heart pound and her whole body ache, Kara can’t pretend anymore. 

These dreams clearly _mean_ something, and the woman in them –- the same woman she had seen bloodied in the graveyard – is clearly significant.

She slips away from the wedding preparations without being noticed and begins to investigate. A search for the name ‘Lena Luthor’ yields no information on the woman herself, but it does lead Kara to an old family tree that she finds in the old town records.

The Luthors, she discovers, were an old family that used to be very powerful in Argo several hundred years ago. Except their money, it seems, had run out a few generations before, and the last of the line she sees are two names -- Alexander and Lena Luthor.

The family tree doesn’t list anymore information on Lena that wasn’t on her gravestone, but it certainly has more information on Alexander “Lex” Luthor. It lists that had been married and had had a child, though both his wife and infant had died during childbirth. 

However, when Kara digs deeper into the story, she finds an old article in an old newspaper that speculates that Lex Luthor had killed his wife and their baby. The article further states that Lex had fled under suspicion of murder, and that all the properties he had inherited as the sole male heir of the dwindling Luthor fortune were seized during the investigation until he could be found.

Kara spends all day in the library, poring over old articles and books, trying to find any more information on the Luthors. Her reporter’s curiosity is piqued by this mystery, and it’s awakened that old instinct to try and dig for the truth. She tries not to think how this has consumed more of her passion and attention than her own wedding, which is a week away.

Instead, she just burrows deeper, trying to find the location of the old Luthor Manor. Unfortunately, she discovers that it was torn down a few years after Lena’s death, and that a new family had built their home on its grounds.

It takes her several tries and the aid of a very helpful librarian, but Kara is finally able to find some records of the sale of the estate, and a current map of Argo to compare with the old map of the town so she can find where the old Luthor Manor was.

Her jaw drops and she has to sit back and exhale slowly when she sees current location. No way. This is too bizarre. But in a weird way, it makes _sense_.

Kara’s ancestral home has stood for almost two hundred years on the ruins of the old Luthor Manor.

She checks the records of the sale again, and it’s all crystal clear on the page. Luthor Manor and the land it stood on was bought by the artist Kara Inze-Dey nearly two hundred years ago. The old house had been torn down, and a new one built in its place. The same house that stands in that spot to this day. 

The very same one Kara is to be married in and inherit.

Kara returns the books and the maps in a state of muddled shock. How has she gotten so swept up in this? Three weeks ago, she’d never even heard of this house, and now she’s tangled in this mess and having dreams of a long-dead woman who may or may not have appeared to her as a bloody ghost few days ago? Not to mention, her great-great something grandmother was actually a prolific artist and she didn’t even know it? What is going on?

Maybe it’s time to go back home. Put this obsession away, and focus on the important stuff, which is preparing for her wedding. She feels a little guilty. She hasn’t had a proper conversation with her fiancee for a week. She hasn’t shown up to fittings or tastings or any of that. She hasn’t even thanked Eliza and Alex and her friends for all the work they’re putting into preparing the house for the wedding.

When Kara returns to the house, multiple people descend upon her – the wedding planner, her assistants, people asking her to please make a decision on where she wants the centerpieces, or when Mon-El’s mother is arriving, or whether it should be the white or the pink petals in the flower girl’s basket.

Luckily, Alex, bless her, seems to sense her panic immediately, and she pulls her aside to a quiet corner, and asks her what’s wrong. 

“And don’t tell me it’s nothing. You’ve been distracted lately. You’re barely ever here. It seems like you’re doing everything you can to avoid getting involved in this wedding. Kara, if something’s wrong, you know you can talk to me, right?”

And Kara would appreciate her sister’s genuine concern, and might even be tempted to answer her truthfully, but at that same second, she spies a familiar figure underneath the arch of white flowers on the gazebo outside.

“I’m fine, Alex,” she musters a reassuring smile. “I promise, I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately. Everything’s fine, I promise.”

With a quick hug to reassure her sister, Kara hurries away to the follow the pale figure outside the window. She approaches cautiously, half-expecting her to be a hallucination.

Lena turns to her, and after all those dreams, those green eyes and that small sad smile is so familiar that Kara can feel her fear and confusion fall away to be replaced by a vague familiarity.

 _"I’m sorry,”_ The soft voice is familiar too. “I didn’t mean to frighten you last time. And I don’t mean to frighten you now. It’s just…. you look so much like someone I used to know, and I couldn’t help it, I had to see you again….”

She looks so sad and beautiful and delicate that Kara’s heart just goes out to her. Kara waves her hand and scoffs. “Nah, you didn’t frighten me. I’m not scared of you. You just…. startled me, that’s all.”

Lena chuckles softly, and there’s something almost affectionate in the sound. She reaches out to touch one of the flowers on the arch, her fingertips not-quite brushing the white petals. “Plumerias were always my favorite….She always remembered.”

“Who’s ‘she’?” Kara asks quietly, even though she thinks she knows the answer. She doesn’t really need to whisper, there’s no one around, but it feels right in the moment. Like if she speaks any louder, the other woman will disappear.

Tears begin to shine in those luminous eyes. “Kara. _My Kara._ ”

Kara swallows.

“She looked just like you, you know…” Lena smiles at her, her fingers reaching toward her instead of the flowers this time. Kara doesn’t mean to, but steps back reflexively, and a flash of hurt spasms across Lena’s face before disappearing into another sad smile, this time with a trace of bitterness in it. Her hand drops to her side instead. “I’m sorry. It’s just….. I’ve been waiting for so long, I….”

“What do you mean, ‘waiting’?” Kara asks, unable to suppress her curiosity. “What have you been waiting for?”

“For my Kara to come for me.”

“You - Why…” Kara doesn’t know what to say to that. “How long have you been waiting?”

“I…” Lena trails off, seemingly confused. “I don’t know. I just….. a long time.”

“You’re Lena Luthor, right? That was your grave I’ve been visiting.”

“No - I - yes, I suppose it is.” Lena nods, her eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Yes, I am Lena Luthor. Or… I _was_. But… I don’t even remember that being a grave. I don’t remember anything, except… I was waiting for Kara there. I’ve been waiting for so long…”

“ _Why_ were you waiting there?” Kara presses.

“We were…. We were going to run away together.” Lena murmurs, her voice barely a whisper. “I was finally going to leave that place, with her. Always with her… She said she would come back for me there…. but she never did…. I don’t know, I–”

“Kara? There you are!” Mon-El’s voice cuts harshly across Lena’s soft whispers, and Kara turns to him, startled. “Where have you been?”

“I–” Kara whirls around to see that Lena has disappeared and the gazebo is empty. “I was just–”

“Did you forget? My Mom’s coming over tonight. She should be here any minute. I made reservations at that restaurant in town, and you know she hates when we’re late. C’mon.”

Kara allows herself to be led away, but she casts one last look at the spot where Lena was just a few moments ago.

There’s nothing there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, please tell me your thoughts, I am desperate for validation.
> 
> Part II is up on tumblr on my sideblog [@missluthorwillseeyounow](https://missluthorwillseeyounow.tumblr.com/post/626637897818390528/wed-by-candlelight-the-portrait-of-the-secret)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd at 2:30 AM with very little sleep. That's a combination I won't regret at all. Enjoy!

Kara’s dreams that night are turbulent. She could attribute it to the fact that she’d had to endure dinner with Mon-El’s mother, but it’s far worse than any nightmare even Rhea could induce.

_She dreams of her lady’s brother, returning home the prodigal son._

_B_ _ut she knows of the atrocities Lex Luthor is said to have committed, of the wife and child he had left dead in his wake –- and Kara doesn’t want him anywhere near her lady. She can see the war Lena wages between her good judgment and her good heart, can see her vacillating between her love for her brother and her own instincts._

_But Kara, who has no such attachment to him, sees how he brings nothing but discord and chaos into their lives._

_And she’s right._

_Over dinner, he announces his plan to restore the Luthor name and fortune – by promising Lena in marriage to his new business associate, a man named Morgan Edge._

_It’s the first time she’s ever seen her lady truly angry. Lena’s fury emanates from her lithe frame in cold waves as she stands from the dinner table, straight-backed and proud, facing Lex with glacial eyes that burn with pent-up rage, before she throws her glass of wine in his face._

_The second they’re locked in her room, Lena grasps Kara’s arms with desperate fingers. “We need to leave.”_

_“Lena–-”_

_“I can’t stay here, Kara. Not like this. Not when he intends to shackle me to a man like Morgan Edge. I met him once, and that was enough. He’s a despicable cockroach of a man. I cannot stay here and marry him, Kara. I will not.”_

_Kara hears the steel in her lady’s voice, and loves her for it. She opens her arms and Lena melts into her, lips touching her throat, soft words murmured against her skin. “I won’t marry anyone but you.”_

_Kara huffs a small laugh against Lena’s hair. “Somehow I don’t think the Bishop will approve of that.”_

_“I don’t care. Hang the Bishop.” Lena smiles when Kara laughs again. She pulls away slightly, just enough for Kara to see the brilliant clarity in her eyes. “And hang the Luthors. Let them rot in this miserable place. We’ll leave them here. You and I can go somewhere we can be together.”_

_Kara’s heart pounds like a drum, and she takes one of Lena’s hands in hers. “You’d leave your family to be with me?”_

_“In a heartbeat.”_

_Joy bubbles up in Kara’s chest, almost dispelling the heaviness that had settled there since hearing of Lex’s plans. “We could go to Kandor. My cousin lives there with his wife, they might have a place for us.”_

_Lena rests her temple against Kara’s, her lips brushing softly against her hair. “As long as I’m with you.”_

_Kara sighs, and the two of them stay that way for a long moment. It feels as if they are standing at a precipice, with the threat of Lena’s family surrounding them and the terrifying exhilaration of the unknown before them, freedom just within reach._

_“I’ll leave for Kandor at dawn, to make sure Kal can make a place for us.” Kara brings Lena’s hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to her fingers in lieu of a ring. “I will come back for you, I promise.”_

_And Kara somehow, **somehow** , knows that this is the last night she will spend with Lena._

_The dream shifts._

_Kara finds herself in the dark of night, the wind whipping across her face. The horse she is riding on snorts in exertion as she urges the animal as fast as it can go._

_There’s a fierce desperation in the way she grips the reins. She doesn’t know where she’s going, all she knows is that it’s a matter of life and death that she get there in time._

_There’s a wound on her side that burns, but she just presses on it and keeps riding. Bruises have bloomed over her knuckles. Blood dripping from her eyebrow and an accompanying wave of dizziness tells her that she also has a head wound, but she grits her teeth and forces herself to stay on her seat. Nothing is more important than getting to her destination._

_“Kara, we have to stop.” A man appears in her field of vision, riding alongside her. Something in her recognizes him as Kal, her cousin. “You’re bleeding too much.”_

_**“No!”** She protests violently, her voice breaking in the whipping wind “If Lex’s men found us, that means Lex knows that Lena and I were planning to run away. He’s going after her, Kal. We have to get to her first!”_

_She leans forward, urging her horse faster still._

_Only, she never gets to her destination, because the dream shifts again._

_This time, instead of a mount, Kara finds herself sitting at a desk, in a small, unfamiliar room._

_Beside her, Kal’s son, Jon is sleeping peacefully in his cradle. On the table, at her elbow, is a solitary candle, its flickering flame casting a familiar thin light on Kara’s bowed form._

**_“Lena.”_** _Her voice is little more than a whispered sob. The candlelight brings back too many bittersweet memories that make Kara’s heart ache and crumble, as if it’s dying a living death inside the cavity of her chest. **“Lena…”**_

_Kara swallows back a sob and wipes away the tears that blur her vision. She’s worked with less light before, she reminds herself, as she bends over the small locket, painstakingly recording every detail she can remember. She works ceaselessly and without the need for sleep, as if it were possible to bring her lady back to life with each brush stroke._

_She knows – She **knows** it’s impossible to bring her back. She knows it’s impossible to capture the warmth of her smile or the soft steel of her voice in a miniature portrait, she **knows** , but each brush stroke feels like a penance, a way to keep her alive._

_When she’s finished, Kara seals it within the necklace. A secret only she knows._

This time, Kara all but forces herself awake.

She scrambles out of bed, nearly waking Mon-El in her haste. The floor is cold under her bare feet, but she doesn’t care. She scurries out of the room and down to the foyer where she’d left her coat.

Her hand plunges into the coat pocket and she triumphantly fishes out the antique necklace her mother had left her.

The exact same necklace in her dream.

Quickly, she retrieves a knife from the kitchen and pries it open as carefully as she can. It’s a painstaking process, trying not to damage a two-hundred year-old piece of jewelry, but finally, Kara’s efforts pay off.

The necklace opens to reveal the portrait Kara had seen in her dream -– a faithful likeness of Lena Luthor in miniature.

For the first time, it occurs to Kara that this is the only time she’s seen Lena outside of her dreams and their encounters. This solitary portrait is proof that Lena had lived. That she had been _loved_.

Kara’s breath leaves her in a rush, as she slowly realizes what this is.

A lover’s final gift -- her penance -- handed down her family for generations, from one bride to another, with the secret bride who never was inside.

She doesn’t quite know how she feels. It’s a lot to process, and it’s truthfully been a mad whirlwind of the past few days that barely seems real. She looks down at the locket in her hand. Lena’s face smiles up at her, the painting so devotedly true to her likeness, it almost feels like she’s alive.

Well, Kara thinks. If she’s doing this, she might as well go all in. They say every bride goes crazy before the wedding, after all.

Before she can talk herself out of it, Kara grabs her coat and shoves her feet into her boots. She spares a few seconds to root around for a flashlight in the hallway closet before setting out the door.

The air is chilly as she hurries along the familiar overgrown path. Somehow it’s less tranquil and more scary walking along the trail in the middle of the night, with the wind rustling through the trees and insects chirping. The serenity she’d felt before is gone in the oppressive darkness. In the night, everything seems much more ominous -- formless shadows flitting around her, the night sounds loud in her ears. The leaves crunching under her feet feel more ominous than comforting now, and Kara finds herself jumping at every sound.

She draws her coat tighter around herself as she nears the graveyard, her flashlight illuminating a narrow beam of light that plays menacingly over the tombstones.

“Lena? Are you there?”

Kara’s voice is a tentative whisper, and she feels stupid. It’s cold, it’s the middle of the night, and she’s in a graveyard, looking for a ghost. Her steps falter, and she sighs, rubbing her arms to stave off the cold. Maybe it’s time to go home.

She turns to leave, but a familiar voice wisps in the wind behind her, making her shiver.

“You came.”

Kara whirls around to see Lena’s pale form behind her. The eerie silver radiance of her skin in the darkness makes her look otherworldly. But the dark red stains on the white of her dress seem unnervingly real. As if Kara could touch the mortal wound on her abdomen and still feel the pulsing of blood within.

It reminds Kara of why she’s here.

"I did." Her fingers close around the locket around her neck, and she steps forward, closer to Lena. “I… I think I can help you, Lena. I think I know what happened all those years ago.”

“What?” Lena’s voice is thin and hesitant, as though she can scarcely believe Kara’s words. “How–-?”

“I see it. In my head, in my dreams every night. I see you and Kara. I’ve seen the love you had for each other, and I’ve seen –- so many things -- but I need your help. I don’t have the whole story. There’s a side of it that’s missing, and it’s you.”

“I -- I don’t understand, Kara.”

“What do you remember from the night you died?”

“I - I don’t… I don’t remember. So much of it is a fog in my mind…” Lena turns away from Kara, her hands flying to her temples. “It’s been so long. I’ve been waiting so long…”

Kara clutches the locket around her neck. “You have to remember. Please, Lena, remember. Because I have pieces of the puzzle, but you have the key to it. Try, _please_ …. Look, you said you were waiting for Kara. But were you alone?”

“I… I think so. I’ve been alone for so long…”

“What about that night? That night you died?” Kara presses on, her hands coming up, wanting to take Lena’s arms, but she knows that there’s no body there to touch, so she lowers her hand. “You said the place where you were waiting wasn’t a graveyard then. What was it?”

“I -- no, it wasn’t, I –” Lena’s voice is becoming higher, panicked and confused. Her beautiful face is lost and frightened. “I don’t know!”

Kara knows she’s pushing too far, and her instinct to comfort and soothe comes to the fore. She reaches out to touch Lena, and before she can remember that Lena is dead –- has been dead for two hundred years -– her hand comes up to touch her shoulder.

She touches nothing, but for a second –- less than a heartbeat -– her fingers meet resistance at the curve of Lena’s shoulder when there should only be empty air.

In that instant, everything changes. A shock comes through the end of Kara’s fingertips, and all at once everything turns white.

As the light blinds her, Kara hears voices in her ear. _“Lex is watching, and the trip to Kandor is five days long. I can’t risk you leaving until I know there’s a safe place for us there. I promise you, Lena, I will come back for you.”_

An unfamiliar voice. This time, a woman’s. Cold and pragmatic. _“Lex has informed me that Morgan Edge is arriving tomorrow. This wedding must proceed smoothly, Lena. This is what you and I have been working for your whole life. What have I always told you? Everything I do, I do for you and our family…. We are so close, my dear. Everything we have lost will be restored to us. The Luthor name shall be revered once more, and we can become a family again.”_

When the blinding light fades, Kara finds herself in the same old room in Luthor Manor where she and Lena slept. Except the sanctity of the tiny dark room has been violated by another.

Lena is dressed in immaculate white lace, flowers at her breast and in her hair. She looks beautiful and terrible at the same time.

Lex has her by the arm, his face a twisted snarl of cold rage above her as he holds up one of the wine glasses from the dinner table. His hand is wrapped around Lena’s forearm, and Kara rushes forward to rip him off of her, but there’s no use. Her hand passes through Lex, and he continues to sneer menacingly at Lena.

“You’ve never been poisoned before, have you, little sister? Well, I have. Arsenic has a very mild odor.” He holds up the glass to her face before throwing it across the room. Lena stiffens, but she doesn’t flinch. “Usually, one would never recognize it, but I know because my bitch of a wife put it in my drink the night she left me, sneaking off like a frightened little rat, just like you were planning to.”

Lex bares his teeth. “You women, you’re all fools. None more than you, baby sister. You couldn’t even think of a different plan.”

“I did.”

Lena’s free hand subtly disappears within the folds of her dress. As Kara watches, she silently withdraws a knife hidden within her dress and swiftly stabs it into Lex’s side. Lex yells in pain and his eyes widen as Lena twists the handle and pulls the knife out for good measure. He gasps out his shock and his eyes fly to Lena's as if he can't quite believe what she's done.

He groans as Lena pushes him off of her, and he collapses heavily to the floor. Lena gives him one last look, her eyes full of pain and cold anger. “Good bye, Lex.”

Without another backwards glance, Lena draws her cloak around her shoulders and all but flies to the stables. Her horse is there, ready and saddled, and she rides swiftly away from Luthor Manor.

Kara recognizes the path she takes. It’s the same path she’s taken away from the Inze house, the one that leads to the graveyard, and at once, her stomach is filled with dread. She wants to scream at Lena to take a different road, but Lena can’t hear her.

The dread worsens into full panic when she hears hoof beats growing louder and louder near them. She sees the same terror in Lena’s eyes when another horse cuts her path, and the mare she’s riding on rears up in fright.

 ** _“Lena!”_** Kara screams as Lena is thrown off the horse, her head hitting the ground hard.

But Lena can’t hear her. She moans feebly on the ground, the back of her head covered in blood. She hangs onto her consciousness, and Kara watches fearfully as Lena tries valiantly to get up.

Behind her, Lex dismounts from his horse, his entire right side blooming red with blood from Lena’s knife. He advances toward her, hand on his side, his face twisted into a terrible grimace. Lena stumbles, pulling herself away from him on her arms.

Kara frantically tries what she can to help, even though she knows it’s useless. Her hands can’t pull Lena up or beat Lex away as he drops onto one knee beside her struggling form. A glint of a blade is the only warning Kara gets before the blade Lena had used to stab Lex drives into her body now, and all of Lena’s breath comes out in a choked scream.

“You couldn’t just do what I asked, could you, Lena? Everything would have been perfect, little sister. Our fortunes restored, the Luthor name once again redeemed and exalted, and you would have been set for life.” Lex hisses in her face, flecks of his blood spitting from his mouth to her cheek. “But you had to go and spread your legs for some servant girl like a filthy whore!”

Lena closes her eyes, tears trickling down her face, and Lex laughs mirthlessly at her, voice lowering to a dangerous mutter.

“And where is she now, Lena?" There's an almost musical note in his malevolent voice now, as if he's enjoying this. It makes Kara's blood run cold. "Where is your faithful Kara? She never came back for you, did she? You’re about to die, little sister. You’re going to bleed out in this godforsaken road, and she’s not here. You’re all alone.”

Kara screams at him, beats her ineffectual fists at him as he struggles to his feet, away from Lena, dropping her body on the side of the road. Kara drops to her knees beside her fading form, frantically trying to place her hands on Lena's abdomen, as if she could close the wound herself. _“Lena…. Lena….”_

Her hands can do nothing. Unlike before, there is no resistance when she tries to touch Lena -- her hands simply grasp thin air, even though the jagged wound on Lena’s stomach is terrifyingly real. Lena chokes on blood and air, and she can’t see the pleading face above her as she mouths her last word.

“Kara…”

All at once, the light blinds Kara again, and she’s wrenched away from Lena. She screams and tries to reach out, but to no avail.

When the light fades, she finds herself in the woods again, this time astride a horse, with Kal by her side. 

She spies the limping form of Lex Luthor between the trees, blood trailing behind him, and she feels white-hot rage surge through her veins. She dismounts from her horse and lunges at him, dragging his broken body forward.

“Kara!” Kal’s voice tries to stop her, but Kara is beyond all reason. **  
**

She fists her hands into his bloodied collar and shakes him. “Where’s Lena??”

Vaguely, Kara realizes that she’s no longer seeing Lena’s memories, but Kara’s. The realization is lost when Lex laughs, and she wants to tear the smile from his face.

“You’re too late.” Lex sneers, blood and spittle flying from his mouth, his face contorted in a terrible smile. “She’s dead.”

Kara finally screams her rage in his face. _**“You’re lying!! Where is she??!”**_

Lex doesn’t answer, just laughs and laughs. Kara wants to kill him, she could so easily finish the job. But she has to find Lena first. 

She leaves Lex with Kal and follows the trail of blood, her stomach turning and her heart pounding in her throat. From a distance, Kara can see where the trail ends, to a pool of blood and a lifeless figure dressed in white.

She screams. And screams.

It feels never-ending.

Everything shifts again, and Kara weeps against it, wanting this to end.

It doesn’t.

When everything rights itself again, Kara is standing in front of the old Luthor Manor. It’s in terrible condition, the west wing has caved in. Its shutters are broken and its windows empty.

Like the family it served, it is dead now.

“There’s nothing left here, Kara.” Kal tells her “We should go. There’s nothing for you here.”

Kara shakes her head, resolute. “Not yet. I have a promise to keep.”

Their room is in disrepair. The bed they shared their love on is lifeless and broken, just like her lady. Kara grips the dusty sheets, tears slipping silently down her face. She would howl her grief out if she could. If she could, she would scream and yell and rage for the woman she loved and lost. 

But she can’t. Her grief is too far beyond that.

So instead she drops the sheets and bends down to retrieve her oils and paints from their hiding spot in the floor. Nothing else in this room is retrievable, but this -– the last gift Lena gave to her –- is sacred.

That night, with great effort, she lifts the brush again. She can’t paint Lena’s face anymore. It hurts too much. That wound will never heal, but she can seal it within the necklace and place it above her heart.

Instead, Kara paints everything and anything else. She lets the brushes guide her, instead of her guiding them.

For a long time, she paints only in blacks of night and reds of blood and browns of earth covering the dead. She paints in slashes and heavy strokes that demand the weight of grief. 

Sometimes the brush becomes too heavy in her hand, and she yearns to put it down. But Kara made a promise, and she is the only one left to keep it for -– herself, and the memory of a dead girl –- so she persists.

And then one day, baby Jon comes toddling into her room, burbling nonsensically around the fist in his mouth. 

He waddles unsteadily toward her, tripping into her dress. She catches him with a small _oof!_ And he laughs as a streak of paint smears his cheek. His hand splatters into her paints and he smears them over Kara too, making her chuckle. 

They make a little game out of it, smearing paint all over each other, and Kara opens the brighter colors that catch his eye. Soon, both Kara and baby are smeared with greens and yellows and blues and pinks. She opens the colors that had been Lena’s favorites, and she lets Jon smear them onto her face.

She’s just teaching the baby how to mix paints to get orange when Lois catches them red-handed in the middle of their mess.

But instead of scolding them, Lois sees the first smile Kara has cracked in months and she shakes her head at both of them, chuckling, and marches them both off to get a bath.

And so Kara heals. 

Slowly, and in small steps forward and many falls backward. But she learns to live again. She learns to build her life around the cavern in her heart.

Lois gives one of her paintings to her sister Lucy as a gift, and it hangs in Lucy’s sitting room for a while, until one of her guests, an illustrious and irrepressible widow named Lady Grant, sees the painting and offers to purchase it from Lucy on the spot.

Lady Grant proceeds to commission an entire series of paintings from Kara, and Kara rapidly acquires more patrons who marvel at her paintings, and praise her on the depth and emotion behind her work. 

“One cannot help but be moved by them, by you, Kara.” Lady Grant tells her once in a rare moment of candid compassion.

Through it all, she never forgets her promise.

When, years later, she stands underneath an arch of white flowers -– plumerias, her lady’s favorite -– Lois asks what her “something borrowed” is for the wedding, Kara doesn’t answer her. 

Instead, Kara silently answers the woman in the portrait, sitting hidden in the necklace above her heart.

_“My heart. It will never be owned by another, merely borrowed. He may become my husband, but my heart will always, always belong to you, Lena.”_

* * *

...

“Kara… Kara, wake up.”

Kara opens her eyes to see Lena’s face hovering over hers. The ground is cold and hard underneath her, sprinkled lightly with dew. Kara blinks rapidly a few times. It’s morning now, still early if the light is anything to go by, and the first rays of the sun are just brightening the horizon.

“Kara…” Lena’s eyes are relieved as she sits up, but her voice still holds a touch of concern. Her fingers hover lightly over Kara’s shoulder, touching but not quite touching. “Are you alright?”

Kara meets her eyes. “Do you… Do you remember now?”

Lena looks away from her, her eyes downcast and pained. Her voice breaks on a single word “Yes, I remember. I died on this road, and Kara, she never came. I was alone.”

 _ **“No.”**_ Kara surges forward, ducking her head to get Lena to meet her eyes again. “She came back for you. She… she may have been too late, but she came back. She never forgot you, Lena. Not for the rest of her life. And she _never_ forgot her promise.”

Lena finally meets her gaze, her eyes full of sorrow and hope long held back.

“Come with me. Let me show you.”

The path feels long and full of the things Kara knows now, but she and Lena walk through it side by side. Kara wishes she could hold Lena’s hand, but she settles for letting her fingers brush the outline of Lena’s.

Kara takes Lena back to her ancestral home, and opens the doors for her. The morning sun is just high enough now for the light to filter beautifully through the vast windows, painting the rooms with warmth. 

“She made this home for you, Lena.” Kara turns to the other woman, who finally steps through the threshold with a look of wonder in her eyes. “All those years ago, Kara promised you she would build you a house filled with light and warmth, and she did. She built it from the ruins of the house where you first shared your love, and she’s kept it for you all these years.

She leads Lena further inside, walking with her through the sunlit rooms. "All the women in my family -– every daughter that passed through these halls, every bride that said their vows here, all the way down to my Mother who was married here and left this place to me -– every single one has kept it…. And it was all for you.”

Kara takes the locket on her chest and opens it to show Lena the portrait her Kara made of her. “She kept you in her heart until she was ready to give you to her daughter at her wedding day. She was never able to be with you, but don’t you see…? Every time this necklace passed from one bride in this family to the next, she gave you her vows and she kept you alive.”

A strange sense of peace washes through Kara as she leads Lena through the halls of her family’s home. _Lena’s_ home.

Lena touches the walls of the house, the flowers adorning the staircase, with reverent hands. There are tears on her face, but she is smiling as steps into the light filtering through the windows. Lena closes her eyes and turns her face to the light, as if she can feel its warmth.

Kara stands next to her, feeling her heart fill at the sight of Lena in the home she was promised.

“Your brother cursed you with his last words when he made you believe she would never come back. That you were all alone. He kept you bound to your sadness for so long, but Lena…. your Kara loved you so much that her love for you spanned _generations_.... You don’t have to let his words keep you bound. You can choose to be free.”

Lena’s eyes open slowly, and as Kara watches, her face becomes radiant, awash with blinding love and emotion.

“I…… I see her. I see _**Kara**_.” Lena’s reverent voice breaks into a breathless sob. “She says she’s been waiting for me.” 

Lena turns back to her one last time, tears of joy shining in her eyes, and Kara knows she will never see her again. _“Thank you.”_

For a long moment, Lena glows so brightly that the light blinds Kara’s eyes. By the time her eyes open, the light is gone.

And so is Lena.

Kara stands quietly in the middle of the room and takes a long inhale. The melancholia of the past few days is gone. Even the anxiety of the last few weeks seems to have fallen off her shoulders. Instead, she just feels a lightness in her whole body, and a clarity of thought she hasn’t known in a long time.

“Kara?” Alex’s voice comes from behind her, concerned, and Kara turns slowly to find her sister in the doorway behind her. “Are you okay?”

Kara huffs a small laugh and beams at her. “Yeah, I really am.”

Alex moves to stand beside her. She’s still in her pajamas, and there’s a quiet sort of hesitation in the way she approaches Kara, all sisterly concern. 

Kara smiles warmly at her and offers her hand. Alex takes it and they both look out the vast windows.

“I can’t go through with this wedding, Alex.”

Her sister turns toward her, studying her with a protective eye. When all she sees on Kara’s face is contentment and a tranquil sense of calm, Alex nods. “I know.”

“You do?”

“I could kinda tell.” Alex shrugs and gives her a knowing look. “You’re my sister, I know you. I was just waiting for you to tell me.”

“Does Eliza know?”

“Knowing her, she probably does.”

“Well, then.” Kara inhales long and deep. “I guess the only one left to tell is Mon-El.”

“Why am I not surprised that your groom is the last to know that he’s not gonna be a groom after all?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue coming very soon! If you want to read it, it's on my tumblr [@missluthorwillseeyounow](https://missluthorwillseeyounow.tumblr.com/post/637100072158560256/part-iii-wed-by-candlelight-the-portrait-of-the)


	3. EPILOGUE

The lush verdancy of the countryside unfurls itself on the road in front of Kara, and she rolls down the windows of her rental car to let the fresh air in. A deep inhale brings the smells of grass and earth, and Kara smiles to herself.

It’s her second day here. She’d gotten in late from her flight and she’d spent most of yesterday in her hotel room, jet-lagged and feeling barely human. The long flight, the bustle of the city, and the general fatigue that accompanies travel had settled on her and she’d allowed herself one day to recover in bed. 

She would take longer to recuperate, maybe do some sightseeing in the city – but honestly, she’d been too excited. So despite still feeling the effects of jet lag like a bad hangover, she’d taken her rented Subaru and set off for the countryside. 

Alex would probably laugh at her impatience, but this moment has been two years in the making, Kara can hardly be blamed for being unable to wait.

Two years. Since the last time she’d dreamed about ghosts from the past. And in those two years, it’s almost all she’s been thinking about.

The book is almost finished.

For two years, Kara has been writing her family’s secret legacy. Each page has been a loving chronicle of Lena and her Kara’s story.

She’s taken some liberties, of course. There are no records of what happened that fateful night, and the full story only lives in Kara’s memories now. No one else knows, and apart from the portrait of Lena inside the locket around Kara’s neck, there’s no proof that this had even happened.

But it did. And now, it just needs an ending.

For the past two years, Kara has been combing through references, records, centuries-old documents to find information on the Luthor family. The last of the line were Lex and Lena, and the name had ended with them. With their deaths, the fortune had dissipated – and of course, the home had been transformed by her ancestor and now belongs to Kara’s family.

But Kara has something in her memories that records don’t have.

Something Lex said to Lena had wormed its way into Kara’s mind all these years, and it still hasn’t left.

_“Arsenic has a very mild odor. Usually, one would never recognize it, but I know because my bitch of a wife put it in my drink the night she left me, sneaking off like a frightened little rat, just like you were planning to.”_

As loathe as Kara had been to recall Lex Luthor or his caustic words, once she remembered it, a theory planted itself in her brain, and it had taken hold.

All the records said that Lex had brought infamy to the family for killing his wife and child. But if Lex’s wife had managed to escape him, then she may well have survived. And if she had, what happened to her baby? Was she able to take the child with her? If so, where did they go? What happened to them?

It’s taken two years of careful research – fueled by Kara’s dedication to telling Lena’s story, and her own natural curiosity – to find out. Tracking down Lex Luthor’s wife to her hometown, sifting through various names she might have used and tracking down descendants, finding exciting leads, and coming up against numerous dead ends.

And then three months ago, she’d finally tracked down a doctor living in the small town Kara’s heading to now. If her theories are correct, she could be a long-lost descendant of Lex Luthor. 

Kara had contacted her, explaining as much as she could about her book without totally freaking this stranger out. The doctor was very interested in hearing Kara’s story – if a little skeptical at first. She had been polite enough in her earlier emails -- but the more Kara told her about the story, the more intrigued she became. And the stronger Kara’s conviction in her theories became as well.

And now three months - and a whole barrage of emails between them - later, Kara’s finally about to meet her.

Kara spies the charming little mailbox on the side of the road, and knows she’s at the right place. She steers the rented Subaru into the road beyond it and curiously surveys the place. 

As she turns the corner, she finds the picturesque cottage, half-hidden by ivy climbing up its walls and a small grove of blackthorn and aspen trees. Rows of bright little sea-lavender blooms line the walkway. A lovely tabby cat perched on the wall licking its paws completes the delightful picture.

Once she’s parked, Kara self-consciously straightens her appearance. The fresh air helped with the jet lag a bit, but she still looks exactly like she got off a ten-hour flight. 

She lets out an exasperated sigh as she straightens her button-up and tries to flatten her hair from where it had been blown all over her face during the ride. When she’s satisfied, she takes a deep breath and approaches the door to ring the bell.

Kara is fiddling with her glasses as she waits – a nervous habit – and when the door opens, she nearly snaps them clean in half. She chokes as she gets her first sight of the doctor. “H-Hello.”

“Yes?” The face on the other side of the door wrinkles slightly in confusion and concern at her tone and the expression of utter shock that Kara is wearing right now.

It’s the same face in the locket resting over Kara’s heart, nearly identical at first glance – from the sharp angle of her jaw to the high forehead to the clear viridian eyes. It’s as if the portrait has come to life right in front of Kara’s eyes two hundred years later.

She feels an odd sensation in her chest that she can’t quite understand – it’s at once a sting and a balm. It’s been two years since Kara’s seen that face outside of lines and brush strokes on a old memento.

But the longer Kara stares, the more she notices the differences. This woman’s face is slightly rounder, her features just a degree softer, and she has a scar near her right eye.

The woman inches slightly away, and Kara realizes she’s been staring at her for a full thirty seconds without saying anything. “Sorry. Y-you’re Dr. Kieran?”

"Yes."

Kara almost wants to laugh, because _of course_ this is Dr. Kieran. Of course Lex Luthor’s last living descendant has his sister’s face. Wherever that bastard is, he must surely be rolling in his grave.

"And who are you, exactly?"

"I'm uh--"

The woman's eyes widen in recognition. “Oh, you’re Kara Danvers!”

Her voice trills over a small laugh, and Kara can’t help but stare more. Hearing her own name in that voice is so strange but delightful in a way that makes Kara shiver. That voice is familiar – yet somehow lighter and more melodic than that of the woman Kara had met two years ago. The voice of a woman who didn’t live under the shadow of the Luthor name, who didn’t spend so many years alone and nearly-forgotten. 

“It’s lovely to meet you.” The woman opens the door wider and extends a hand toward Kara. “Please, call me Lena.”

Something pings inside Kara at the name, and she takes the woman’s hand with a smile she can’t contain.

“Hello, Lena. I’m so happy to finally meet you. I have so much to tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, look at me finishing fics. 2020 was the year from hell for a lot of us, but man, it brought me a lot of growth as a writer. Still got a long way to go, but we've come a long way, and we're getting there.
> 
> Please let me know what you think!


End file.
